


Breathe

by Bookkbaby



Series: Until Only A Scar Remains [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexual Castiel (Supernatural), Asexual Character, First Kiss, M/M, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 13:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14812019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookkbaby/pseuds/Bookkbaby
Summary: 'It takes Sam a little over a week to corner him.'After the Succubus Incident, Dean and Sam have a talk. Dean's not happy.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> We're getting close to wrapping this thing up, I think.
> 
> Next fic is going to be a doozy, so have a breather (and leave a comment?)

It takes Sam a little over a week to corner him.

Dean had been avoiding his younger brother ever since the Succubus Incident (as he'd taken to calling it). After Cas had recovered and the immediate danger was passed, all Dean had been able to think about was what Sam had said. What Sam _knew._

_I'm happy you're finally going to tell Cas how you feel about him!'_

He'd been more furious at Sam's other accidental insinuations and worried about Castiel to really give any thought to Sam knowing he lo- how he felt. Right.

Fuck, he's never going to be able to handle this conversation sober.

He's flipping pancakes on the griddle when he hears the shuffle of feet behind him, too heavy to be Cas.

Time's up.

"Morning," he says, shoulders involuntarily tensing.

"Morning," Sam replies gently. He's using that voice, the 'it's time to talk about our Feelings' voice Dean absolutely hates.

"Want pancakes?" Dean asks, hoping to stave off the inevitable. If Cas somehow decides that today he's a morning person and actually shows up in time for breakfast, Dean's saved.

"Ah, sure," Sam says. He clears his throat. "Look, Dean-"

"Can't," Dean says. He flips a pancake. "Cooking."

He can _f_ _eel_  the bitchface that gets him. Sam's quiet for a moment. Dean uses the precious second to send a prayer to an angel who can no longer hear him to show his ass up for breakfast and raise Dean once more from the Hell of emotional discussions with his brother.

"Are you going to tell him?" Sam asks, painfully earnest and kind.

Too late.

Dean fumbles his next flip and sends the half-cooked pancake careening to the floor. Batter-side down, of course, because fuck Dean Winchester's life.

"Shit," he says, momentarily abandoning the griddle in favor of paper towels to wipe up the mess. He scowls. He'd _just_  cleaned that floor and now there's batter in the grout lines.

He wipes at the spot as best he can then moves to rescue the rest of his pancakes. He can still feel Sam's eyes on him like a weight.

"You should," Sam says. Dean flips the last pancake over and starts moving the cooked ones from the griddle to the waiting plate.

"Pancakes are done," Dean says, shoving the plate sideways on the counter so Sam can grab it. Sam sighs and walks over to take it.

"Are you worried he'll react badly?" Sam asks, plate of hot breakfast in his hands going completely ignored in favor of pestering Dean. "Or that he doesn't love y-"

"Butter," Dean says, picking up the tub of butter and shoving it into Sam's chest. "Syrup. Go eat."

Sam stares at Dean with heartbreakingly wide puppy-dog eyes, understanding and compassion lighting up his gaze from within.

Dean's not hungry anymore. He turns away from Sam and yanks the plug of the griddle from the wall.

"Dean-"

Dean cuts him off with a sharp shake of his head.

"Leave it alone, Sam," he says. "Just... shut up. Eat your damn breakfast."

"I'm sure Cas-"

"What?" Dean snaps. "That he loves me too? That he'll just _fall into my arms_  and swear he's never been happier?"

Even Sam seems shocked by the venom in Dean's tone. Dean feels a pang of guilt, but he can't take the words back. He swallows the bitterness that threatens to choke him and looks away.

"That's not... it doesn't work that way," Dean says. He can feel Sam considering his words silently for a moment.

"It can, if you let it," Sam starts. Dean shakes his head and sighs gustily, exasperated. Sam scowls. "Cas loves you-"

"Like a brother," Dean says, trying and failing to keep his voice neutral. He can be content with what he has, he really can, if Sam and the damn universe would just stop shoving his face in what he can't.  
It's enough to be there for Cas, and Dean's been doing a shit job of that as it is.

"He _cares_  about you," Sam insists. "And after everything he's been through, don't you think he deserves to know how much he means to you? To both of us, really, but... to _you_  especially."  
Dean straightens up and glares at his younger brother.

"Low blow," Dean growls. Sam doesn't look contrite in the slightest.

"Doesn't Cas deserve to know how much you love him?" Sam asks, entirely too reasonable and too self-righteous by half. Dean purses his lips.

On the one hand, yes. On the other hand, abso-fucking-lutely not, no way, never.

Because Cas deserves the fucking world, and Dean is... not that.

Dean shakes his head and runs a hand over the back of his hair. He doesn't look at Sam.

"I'm not doing it, Sam. I'm not telling him," Dean says. He snaps his gaze back to his younger brother, narrowing his eyes and raising a finger warningly. "And don't you even-"

"I wouldn't," Sam says, crossing his arms. "It's not mine to tell."

Dean lifts his chin.

"You said he... you know. 'Cared' about me," Dean says, using scare quotes because he's used up his allotment of the word 'love' for the year already. Sam shakes his head dismissively.

"He didn't say anything to me. I've just got eyes," Sam says. His voice is so matter-of-fact, so certain that it shakes something in Dean down to the core. He swallows.

If Sam is right... if Cas really _did_  love him...

Fuck.

"I'm not gonna tell him," Dean says, voice soft and thick. Sam opens his mouth to object but Dean shoots him a Look that shuts him right up.

"He doesn't need... _t_ _his_  right now," Dean says, gesturing to all of himself in a jerky motion. "Any of it. At all."

"Dean-"

"Sam," Dean says flatly. "I'm man enough to admit that I'm five kinds of fucked up. I can't-" He makes a vague gesture with his hand. "Relationships. Dating. The domestic thing. I can't fucking do it and I've tried."

He thinks of Lisa and the year he'd spent with her. It hadn't been perfect, but it had been good. Lisa had been good to him; he'd fitted into her life not as a perfectly slotted piece, but as something that could have worked given enough time and effort. Ben had been the son he'd never had and the white picket fence in the suburbs was everything he'd ever thought he wanted.

But he hadn't been able to let go of hunting, and he'd dragged Lisa and Ben along with him into danger.

"I'm not... I'm not good for him, Sam," Dean says, and it hurts like a sonofabitch to admit, but it's the truth. Dean feels scraped raw and bleeding, but he's only going to be able to do this once. "Doesn't matter how I feel about him."

For a moment, there's only silence.

"Isn't that for him to decide?" Sam asks gently. Dean shakes his head, suddenly exhausted.

"I'm not gonna put this on him," Dean says. Sam sighs.

"Just... think about it?" 

Dean shrugs a shoulder.

"I'll think about it," he lies.

Sam's expression grows pained, but he doesn't push any further. He looks down at his now cold plate of pancakes like he couldn't think of anything less appetizing to eat.

Neither of them hear the footsteps steal quietly away from the open door.

 

* * *

 

Dean ties his robe around himself as he walks down the hall towards the kitchen. It's late and if he wants a damn glass of warm milk to help him sleep, he figures he's more than entitled.

With the sort of shit day he's had, he might just forgo the milk and chug a bottle of Jack.

Breakfast had been bad enough and had left him still hungry besides. He'd spent most of his day in the garage, avoiding both Sam and Cas, though a sandwich and beer had appeared mysteriously on his workbench later in the afternoon. Dean suspected Sam's hand in it, a peace offering after the absolute fiasco that morning had been.

And now it's late, nearing midnight, and Dean can't fucking turn his brain off long enough to sleep. He keeps thinking about what Sam had said and wondering-

But no. He can't let his mind wander down that path, towards all the what-ifs and maybes he has been studiously Not Thinking About for years. It only makes his bed feel bigger and colder, the room emptier, and his chest ache.

He's passing the door to the library when he hears a rustle of cloth. He pauses, hand momentarily going for a weapon he isn't carrying as he creeps forward to peer inside the room.

It's just Cas, sitting on one of the plush chairs and staring pensively at the wall. Dean relaxes and walks in.

"Hey," he says, settling himself in a second chair.

"Hello, Dean," Cas says, glancing at him briefly before looking away. Dean frowns.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asks. Cas shakes his head minutely.

"Haven't tried," he says. Dean waits.

The silence stretches.

Dean clears his throat. He's had his fill of emotional conversations for the week, thank you very much _Sam_ , but something is clearly bugging Cas.

"Talk to me?" Dean asks, shifting in his chair so he's facing Cas more directly. Cas glances at him again and then looks away, an uncertain expression on his face.

"I..." Cas starts. He shakes his head again and looks down. "It's nothing."

Dean snorts.

"Has to be _something_  if it's keeping you up at night," Dean says. Cas looks at him pointedly.

"You're also awake," he says.

"I'm also not sitting and staring at walls," Dean replies, raising an eyebrow. Cas sighs and looks away again. Dean settles himself in his chair as if for a long wait, even though it's after midnight and all he really wants to do is go back to bed and actually sleep, without thoughts of what-cannot-be plaguing him.

Cas looks at him again, then back down. Dean waits, but when it becomes obvious that Cas isn't going to be the one to break the silence, he speaks.

"Have you been having nightmares?" Dean asks gently. Given the Succubus Incident, Dean wouldn't be surprised. Cas glances up.

"No worse than usual," Cas says. He looks at his hands and rubs them against each other. Dean spreads his hands.

"Then what is it?" Dean asks. Cas takes a deep breath.

"I... overheard you and Sam earlier," he says reluctantly.

Dean's heart stops. The blood drains from his face and he stares at Cas in horrified shock, frozen in place. Cas looks at him then, expression pained and apologetic, and Dean feels the bile climb up his throat.

No.

No no no no _no_.

"You..." Dean says. He can't speak. His thoughts are traveling in a million directions all at once.

He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to salvage this.

"You're in love with me," Cas says softly. Dean flinches. "Not the love you have for Sam, but... you love me as Adam loved Eve. As Jonathan loved David."

Dean's chest feels tight. He can't breathe, let alone speak.

All he can do is sit and watch his world shatter around him and hope Cas lets him down easy. His heart is already in pieces but Cas could so easily reduce those shards to dust with a few words.

"I- I'm sorry," Dean says. He doesn't know what else to say.

Cas frowns, head tilted in a way that Dean has always found endearing. He aches, pain lancing through him at the sight.

"Why are you apologizing?" Cas asks. Dean's mouth works but no sound comes out. It feels like the words are all building up in his throat, a dozen things he wants to say and a thousand more promises he wants to make.

"Don't leave," Dean suddenly blurts. With that out there, the words start to pour out. "Just stay here and we'll figure it out, I swear I would never do anything- I wouldn't, I won't, we can get different rooms on hunts and- anything to make you feel safer, but I promise I won't- I don't expect anything. Not a damn thing just... Stay. Please."

Cas is staring at him, wide-eyed and shocked.

"'Stay'," Cas repeats. "You want me to stay."

"I promise I would never-"

Cas reaches across the narrow space between their chairs and rests a hand on Dean's arm. Dean's voice gives out instantly.

"Dean. I know," Cas says. Dean stares at the hand touching him, dumbstruck.

"You... know," he repeats slowly.

"You wouldn't hurt me. Not intentionally," Cas says. "You're not... her."

Dean nods.

Cas takes a deep, slow breath.

"I can't be with you the way that you want," Cas says quietly. Each word is like a stab to the heart and Dean hunches his shoulders, shutting his eyes against the pain. "I'm _broken_ , Dean. I-"

"You're not," Dean snaps. His heart is in a million little pieces but that fragility and vulnerability burns away to anger. Anger is easier, anger burns brighter than the pain for as long as he can feed it. "What the reaper did to you doesn't-"

"I _know_ , Dean," Cas snaps back. "I just don't-" He makes a vague, sharp gesture with his hands, as if to convey that he knows but just doesn't _believe_. He breathes in. "I'm not like you. Even before April, I felt broken. I just... I used to think, maybe..." His voice trails off and he looks at Dean pleadingly.

Dean stares back, confused. Cas swallows and looks down.

"I used to think about it," Cas says softly, so quiet Dean almost doesn't hear it. "Sometimes. What it would be like for your hands to touch my vessel. If the acts of physical intimacy were really so pleasant, and what it might be like to experience them with you."

Dean's heart slowly starts pumping again. He can hear it in his ears.

"What?" he says. "Cas, what are..."

Cas meets his eyes then, his expression pained.

"I'd never wanted that before," Cas says. "My siblings would tell me stories about the wonders of taking a flesh vessel and partaking in its pleasures. Balthazar would-" Cas shakes his head. "But I never joined them. I never wanted to. In all my centuries watching Earth, I had never once felt the carnal urge they spoke of. I still don't understand it."

Dean stares. Hope is creeping slowly in, warring with his disbelief and confusion.

"What are you saying?" Dean asks, because he _c_ _an't_  misunderstand. He thinks it would kill him.

"Then I raised you from Perdition," Cas says. "And I fought for you. I died for you."

Dean swallows.

"I saw how fiercely you loved," Cas says, voice a whisper. "And I fell."

Dean's certain he must have hit his head somewhere. He must be hallucinating or dreaming, because this doesn't happen. Dean Winchester does not get a happy ending.

"It didn't happen immediately, but after some time, I began to wonder. What kissing was like. If sex was really so pleasurable. It wasn't the lust my siblings had described to me but more... a curiosity. I wanted to _know_  you, Dean," Cas says, looking at Dean so intensely Dean's surprised his eyes don't burn with his lost Grace. "I wanted to know every part of you and claim it for my own. I wanted to bring you pleasure. I wanted-" Cas shakes his head, like he can't even put into words everything he desired.

"It wasn't lust," Cas repeats softly. "I just wanted to be close to you. I wanted every form of intimacy you were willing to offer me."

Dean swallows thickly. In some ways, he thinks it would be easier if Cas had said he wanted Dean physically, but this is something altogether less carnal than that. It's not something Dean knows how to deal with. Emotion has never been his strong suit, and this is a lot of it, all directed at him.

He's never felt more elated or less deserving.

Cas breathes in again and hunches over on himself, shuffling his feet closer together and pulling at his clothes.

"Now, even the thought of your hands on me is... distasteful. Frightening," Cas says. He sounds distressed, but Dean isn't sure if that's because of the memories or something else.

Dean reaches out a hand tentatively, lightly touching one of Cas's hands. Cas stills.

"None of that makes you 'broken', Cas," Dean says. Cas looks at him, unsure and apprehensive. "It just... it makes you _Cas_."

Cas smiles thinly.

"Maybe 'Cas' isn't such a great person to be," Cas says wryly. Dean shakes his head.

"I'm gonna have to disagree with you there. I think Cas is pretty awesome," he says. Cas ducks his head and breathes out a weak chuckle, but Dean will take it. He'll take any sign of peace of mind from Cas he can get.

Cas sighs and sobers up. He sits straighter in his chair and turns his hand in Dean's to clasp them together. Dean waits nervously.

"Dean, I can't be what you want," Cas says, like each word is pulled painfully from his tongue. "I was never very interested in sex to begin with, and after April... I can't."

Cas starts to pull his hand away, but Dean reflexively squeezes, suddenly panicking at his closing window of opportunity.

"Is that what this is about?" Dean asks. His heart is beating rapidly in his chest, a throbbing that's echoed in his ears. "Just sex?"

"What do you mean?" Cas asks. Dean stares at him, trying to get his words in some kind of sensible order and trying not to let his hopes rise too high.

"You love me," Dean says, testing the words on his tongue carefully. "And the only reason you don't want to-" His words fail him for a moment, mind scrambling to come up with something less juvenile than 'date'. "-be with me is because you don't want to have sex with me?"

"... yes," Cas says, voice laden with regret. Dean wants to cheer. "Dean, I know sex-"

"I don't want to have sex with you," Dean says quickly. Cas stares at him, incredulous.

Dean feels his face heat and he rubs a hand across it as if hoping to rub off the blush and wipe the dumbass words from his mouth.

"I mean... I do, okay? I really do, but not if it's... not something you want," Dean finds it hard to speak and turns his head away. He can't look at Cas while he says this. "I wouldn't-"

"I know," Cas says softly. "Last week, with the succubus... you took care of me. You didn't... touch me."

Dean nods, too choked up to speak. Cas shifts closer on his chair, looking at Dean searchingly, imploringly.

"If we do this," Cas says, and Dean's heart leaps at the possibility of _'_ this'. "It means no sex, possibly ever. I may never share your bed, Dean."

"That's ok," Dean says. He's not surprised just how much he means it. He thinks a few years ago, he might have been, but he was younger then, and didn't know what it felt like to lose Cas over and over and over again. Younger Dean had been more interested in his next lay and finding new and exciting ways to add notches to his belt.

Dean's not that boy anymore. And sure, he _wants_  to sleep with Cas; really, _really_  wants to. More than half of all his good-time fantasies for years had featured blue eyes and dark hair and a voice like the Impala's tires over gravel.

But Cas said 'no', so that's not even on the table.

"It's ok," Dean says again, and something in his face or voice must show how much he means it. Cas looks stunned, a bit of Dean's own hope reflected in his eyes.

"Dean..." he says. He take a deep breath. "You want me, just as I am, even without sex?"

He sounds as if he almost can't believe it, though he badly wants to.

"You're enough," Dean says. He scoots forward on his chair. "Just... I'd like to kiss you, if that's ok?"

And hold his hand. And hold _him_ , hell, keep him close at night. And take him to dinner and the movies, take him to the middle of nowhere to watch the stars; all that sappy cliche romantic bullshit Dean had scoffed at before.

It's just a little too much for Dean to say. One day, maybe.

Cas's gaze drops to Dean's mouth and then back up. Cas's tongue wets his lips nervously, but his eyes are filled with cautious longing.

"I... yes," Cas says. He swallows and Dean watches his Adam's apple bob with the motion. "I think I'd like kissing you."

Dean shifts forward again, the hand not currently holding Cas's coming up to cup his cheek. Cas breathes in.

"Can I kiss you now?" Dean asks. He's practically vibrating off his seat with anticipation, his body light and so full of energy he's buzzing.

It's Cas who closes the last of the distance between them, shifting forward in his seat and slotting his mouth against Dean's. Dean melts and relaxes, leaving control of the kiss in Cas's hands.

Cas kisses gently, tenderly, all close-mouthed and soft but for the slight scratch of stubble on his cheeks. Dean has to fight the urge and instinct to deepen the kiss when Cas makes a small sound in the back of his throat.

Cas pulls back slowly, as if reluctant. Dean opens his eyes, not entirely conscious of having closed them, and finds Cas staring at him with wide, wondering eyes.

"Good?" Dean asks, hoping like hell the answer is yes. He can still feel the heat of Cas's lips against his and he already wants to do that again and possibly never come up for air.

Cas nods.

"Yes," Cas says. He hesitates, then admits in a quiet voice. "Nobody's ever asked if they could kiss me. They just..." He shrugs a shoulder and looks away from Dean.

"Just kissed you," Dean finishes for him quietly. Cas nods.

"It was different with you," Cas says. Dean smiles wryly.

"Good different?" Dean asks, hopeful but nervous.

Cas smiles at him and shifts forward.

"A very good 'different'," Cas says. His eyes drop down to Dean's mouth and then back up. "Can I..."

"Yeah," Dean says, voice a little breathy. He clears his throat. "Anytime you want."

Cas smiles with a warmth Dean can feel all the way to his toes and leans back in to kiss Dean again.


End file.
